


Barbarian

by chains_archivist



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: BDSM, Boys in Chains, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by kimberlite</p><p>A little desert fantasy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barbarian

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--
> 
> Title: Barbarian  
> Author: kimberlite  
> Pairing: Curt/Brian  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Category: BDSM, PWP.  
> Archive: BIC  
> Disclaimer: These beautiful boys belong to Todd Haynes, not me.  
> Thank you: To Alex, as always, for beta.  
> Summary: A little desert fantasy.  
> Notes: This was inspired by a line in Alex's Instamatics #23 where Brian thought of Curt as a "pissy little barbarian" and  
> by a challenge from Waldo to get a certain medical instrument, yeah, that's it, into a story. Thanks, guys.

I'm burning up. The sun is beating down, mercilessly drawing moisture from my skin. I'm thirsty and tired and when I stumble, I feel the sting of the lash as my captors prod me forward. The other poor wretches chained in line aren't doing any better. We continue walking for an interminable time, the sand hot underfoot and the sun harsh overhead.

When we reach the oasis, we are finally allowed to drink. Not enough, but the cool trickle of water down my throat is a blessing. Once I have drunk, I look around me, alert to the surroundings, searching for any chance to escape. I know my wish for freedom is futile. Even if I could run, there is nowhere to go. The desert sands stretch for miles in all directions. On foot and without water it is certain death.

We are led into a large tent. The cool darkness is in such contrast to the bright sunlight that it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. When I can see again, I scan the tent for signs of danger. All I see is silk -- in many vibrant colors, hanging on the walls, covering pillows, draped over bodies. The riot of colors is overwhelming after the endless tan of the sand.

The slaver presents us to a man lounging among the pillows. We are being offered for sale. I take stock of the man who holds my future in his hands. His is startlingly beautiful, dressed in a rich blue robe, with long dark hair framing an angular face, lush lips and flashing eyes. Even though I have never been attracted to a man, I am instantly drawn to him. The feeling is disturbing.

When he sweeps his eyes over me, I catch my breath, not wanting to feel these things for this powerful stranger. I know I am sweaty, dirty and bedraggled, my long blond hair tangled down my back, but he doesn't seem to care. He rises gracefully and stalks over to me.

His gaze is intense, as if he can see through my body to my soul. He senses my feelings. With this recognition, I rebel, snarling and slashing out. The chains restrain me, but I see I have startled him. The slaver is horrified, backhanding me across the face for my impertinence. Blood trickles down my chin from my split lip.

The man says something quietly to the slaver. Rough hands unlock me from the line of captured men and women. My robe is torn from me, leaving me naked before him. I try not to show my fear and embarrassment, lifting my face and meeting his eyes, glaring my defiance. I am not a slave to be used by this man.

He circles me, assessing my body. When he touches the small of my back, I twitch at the unexpected contact. He laughs musically, deepening the touch, running his hand over the curve of my ass. I tense, confused by the message my body is sending. My brain is screaming for the touch to end, but my body is reveling in the silken slide of his hand over my skin.

Finally he moves in front of me, reaching for my cock as if he already owns my body. Anger overwhelms me. I snarl and knock his hands away, my chained wrists making my movement clumsy. I receive another blow to the face from the slaver, but at least the hands are gone.

The man smiles slightly, sliding his gaze over my body, lingering at my groin. I am horrified to realize I am already half hard. He looks back at me and smiles broadly, triumph and hunger clear in his eyes. My face flushes with shame before I can regroup and project hostility.

The man speaks with the slaver, obviously haggling over my price. The slaver seems more concerned that I might hurt the man than over how much he will be paid. This man must be powerful, indeed, to change the slaver's priorities.

A bag of coins is given and the line of slaves is led out of the tent. Before he leaves, the slaver says something to me in a language I can't understand. It is probably a warning. He hands the key to my manacles to my new owner, bows and leaves the tent. The man speaks to the people who remain, and they bow and leave also.

We are alone.

He stands before me and begins to talk. He seems to be trying to find a common dialect. I'm not sure I want to be able to communicate with him, but when I hear his words, "I am your master, now, slave," I react enough that he knows I understand. I wonder if his choice of phrase was, in fact, intended to get a reaction.

I remain tight-lipped and silent, but he doesn't seem to mind. Two women enter the tent carrying a pitcher, a basin and some cloth. They begin to wash me. As much as I don't want to submit to this man's whims, the cool water feels wonderful against my hot skin.

*****

Shit, he's still so hot, Brian thought, feeling Curt's face. Brian ran the washcloth over Curt's forehead, pushing the hair back from his face. Rinsing the cloth in a basin of water, Brian worked it along Curt's arm, trying to help cool him down.

Brian was shocked at how quickly Curt had gotten sick. After a show, Curt had complained of being too hot and feeling lightheaded. He had taken some aspirin and gone to bed, and Brian had been sure he would be fine in the morning. But he hadn't been. Brian had woken up to find Curt sweaty and tangled in the sheets.

Unable to wake him, Brian had called for a doctor, scared that something was really wrong. He had been reassured that the fever would probably break on its own soon. The doctor had asked Brian to monitor Curt's temperature and call if it rose too high. To try to keep Curt more comfortable, Brian had spent the day running the cool cloth over his heated body.

Every couple of hours, Brian took Curt's temperature, fearful of seeing an increase. Fortunately, although he hadn't cooled down, his temperature also hadn't increased.

Brian put the cloth down and picked up the thermometer. Curt was lying on his side. As he lowered the sheet to bare Curt's ass, Brian was torn between embarrassment and concern. How the hell was he going to explain to Curt that while he had been raging with fever, Brian had been sticking a thermometer up his ass? Brian consoled himself with the knowledge that Curt had let him stick something much more substantial up his ass, so hopefully he was the one making it such a big deal.

Brian carefully inserted the thermometer, holding it in place while he waited a few minutes as the doctor had instructed. He couldn't help running his free hand over the smooth, pale expanse of Curt's back. The thought that anything bad might happen to Curt made Brian shudder. He had such an emotional tie to Curt that it scared him to see the man helpless like this.

Brian was relieved to see that Curt's temperature hadn't risen. He hoped that soon the fever would break, and Curt would recover quickly.

*****

The water cleaning me feels wonderful, but there is a price to be paid. The man moves over to me and wets another cloth. He drags the cloth over my cock and balls. I try to move away from his touch, but he holds my hip with his free hand. "As your master, I alone will touch you here." He strokes me gently. "And here." His hand reaches behind me, and the cloth insinuates its way into the crack of my ass.

"No," I gasp harshly, still unwilling to submit to this man.

His smile is compassionate, but his voice is firm. "I always get what I want, little barbarian. And this time, you are what I want. It is best to accept that now."

Unable to stop myself, I snarl, "I'll never accept you. I'm not a slave and I won't let you treat me as one."

The women finish and the man waves them out. When we are alone again, he trails his fingers along my arm and down to the chains holding my wrists together. "From where I stand, you are in no position to defy me. And I sense the struggle in your head is not against me, but against yourself."

Stung that this man sees my thoughts so clearly, I try to strike out. Although thin, he is surprisingly strong. Within moments, he captures my hands, securing my chains to a hook on the center tent pole. I try to shake the pole, but it is firmly anchored in the ground. Stretched out with my arms over my head, I am helpless and exposed.

The man moves out of my line of sight, and I hear rustling noises behind me. He returns to stand before me, stroking the leather strips of a whip down my chest. I recoil instinctively.

The man smiles and moves to kiss me. I keep my lips shut, trying not to react to his advances. He licks and nips at my lips before pulling back. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I am your master, and you will address me as such."

I am terrified by the not so subtle threat of pain that hangs between us, but I can't give up my freedom. As long as I resist, I am my own man. Quietly, but firmly, I say, "No."

He reaches to stroke his fingers over my face. "I had hoped that you could accept your situation, accept your need for me. But I see that you are going to be stubborn, going to make us both work before we can enjoy being together."

I refuse to answer, not wanting to think about the implications of his words. He is going to hurt me, and through pain I am supposed to accept my desire for him, accept him as my master. I don't want to face the possibility that he could be correct.

He moves behind me and I quiver in fearful anticipation of the first blow. The fire of the whip licks at my back with an almost gentle flame-touch. My body jerks under the lash.

*****

Brian was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Curt's back gently when Curt became restless. At first it was just small twitches, but soon Curt's body was jerking and he was whimpering. Brian tried to soothe him, speaking to him quietly, telling him everything would be all right. He rubbed Curt's back more firmly, trying to quiet him. When he ran his hand through Curt's hair, Curt finally calmed.

*****

My skin is on fire. He is whipping up and down my back, ass and thighs. After the first few strikes, I am unable to remain quiet, and I cry out with each blow. My only consolation is that I do not cry out "master," even though I know it would end the pain.

When I think I can't stand it any longer, he stops. With my hands bound, I am unable to erase the tear-streaks from my face. He cleans my face with a cloth, the cool wetness a sensual caress. I look into his eyes, wondering why he stopped, why he's caring for me. His eyes are unreadable.

He moves away again, and I tense in anticipation of another, unknown torment. I am surprised when he returns with a hairbrush and begins to untangle my hair. Slowly I relax into the strokes. He is being so tender, murmuring soft words of praise, telling me how beautiful I am, how much he loves to touch me, how brave I am.

I think this unexpected tenderness is worse than the whip.

When he touches his lips to mine I don't resist. I am tired of fighting myself. I let him deepen the kiss, feeling a languid pleasure wash over me. The whip has left my skin ultra-sensitive to his fluttering touch. Once I have succumbed to his touch, my passion rises. He senses my surrender immediately.

He stands behind me, running his hands up and down my sides and kissing my shoulders. I cannot hold back a moan at his velvet seduction. When his hands reach around to my cock, I gasp at the intense sensation, instantly hard and aching. My mind tries one last time to resist, but my body is in control now. And it knows what it wants.

*****

Brian came out of the bathroom with a new basin of water. After Curt's restlessness had subsided, he had seemed to be drifting peacefully. Brian ran the cloth over Curt's back, then pushed him onto it to more easily reach his chest. As Brian worked down to Curt's stomach, he froze as he noticed Curt's erection. Trust Curt to get horny even at death's door.

*****

He takes his hands off my body, moving away from me. He returns with a silk scarf the color of fire. I tense as the silk it brought near my face. He does not blindfold or gag me, however, and I breathe again. Instead, he reaches up and ties my wrists together above the manacles. Then he unlocks my chains, allowing me to lower my arms. For a moment, it is a relief, but the motion sends pain lancing along my arms and shoulders.

I stand quietly, watching him as he removes his silk robe. His body is smooth and sleek, hard-muscled in a way women are not. When my gaze reaches his groin, the sight of his hard flesh captivates me. I suppose I should have expected it, but I am stunned and scared by his cock. Seeing the reality of my possession is more difficult than submitting to pleasant caresses.

He sees the wariness in my eyes, hears my rapid breathing, and reaches out to soothe me. It is too much. As his hand touches my chest, I panic.

*****

Unsure what to do about Curt's arousal, Brian decided to ignore it, and after a few minutes it subsided. But then Curt's agitation increased, and he began thrashing from side to side, crying out in abject terror. Afraid that Curt might hurt himself, Brian tried to calm him with gently touches. It did no good. Finally, Brian used his body to quiet him, pressing Curt into the bed.

*****

I'm not quite sure how it happens, but I find myself on my back amidst the multi-colored pillows. My tormentor is lying above me, using his body to hold me still. I try to bring my hands down from above my head, but his firm grasp makes movement impossible.

Trapped and subdued, I try to slow my breathing. As I calm, I can feel the heat of the silk against my abused body. It hurts, but then I feel the pain transmuted to pleasure. I writhe against him, feeling his hard cock rub mine, intensifying the pleasure.

He allows the contact for several minutes, then reaches over me for a vial of oil. As he uncaps it, the rich scent of myrrh envelopes me. He dribbles oil onto my stomach and places the vial out of the way. Spreading my legs more widely, he dips his fingers into the oil, smearing it over my belly and along my cock.

The feelings are incredible. I squirm beneath his hands, overwhelmed by the slick touch. I hear whimpering and gasping and am shocked to realize the sounds are coming from me. I've never felt this way before, so open, so vulnerable.

When his finger circles my opening, I cry out, tense and uncertain yet again. As much as I'm enjoying the pleasure of his touch, I'm not sure I'm ready to give myself so fully. The idea of penetration is foreign, frightening. I've never even imagined submitting to anyone in this manner.

But he is insistent. Slowly he works a finger in, past my resisting muscle. It feels strange. I don't like the intrusion. Knowing it will do no good, I cry brokenly, "No, please stop. Don't do this to me."

He adds a second finger, whispering to me, "Hush, relax and accept it. I'll make you feel wonderful."

I shake my head, impaled on his fingers, helpless beneath his relentless assault. Then his fingers brush over something deep within me, and my mind explodes. It is a type of sensation I've never felt before, never imagined existed. He smiles as my gasp turns into a moan.

*****

Curt stopped thrashing and began writhing. Brian felt Curt's hardness against his stomach and realized with a groan that Curt was aroused again. Against his better judgement, Brian's body happily responded to Curt. Brian rolled off Curt, sure that having sex with him under the current conditions was not a good idea.

*****

He removes his fingers, leaning down to kiss the inside of my thigh. His hair tickles my skin as it brushes my sensitive flesh. My mind feels short-circuited by his touch. When he urges me to turn over, I comply.

Still tied by the silk, I brace myself on my forearms. He positions me more to his liking, spreading my legs and pushing my shoulders down. I don't like feeling so exposed, but I have little choice. He moves closer behind me, stroking my ass and positioning himself at the entrance to my body.

He thrusts inside me, sliding deep on one long stroke. It feels like I'm being torn apart. His cock is enormous, hot and rock-hard. He sears me. I scream -- anger, fear, betrayal and pain all wrapped up in the primal vocalization.

My body tightens, trying to resist the invasion, but it is way too late. I haven't been in control for a long time. He begins to move in and out, gripping my hips and panting hot breath on the back of my neck.

Slowly the pain of being penetrated and filled so completely changes. I still feel him hard inside me, but the pleasure of this most intimate touch is increasing with each thrust. Awkwardly I try to push back, try to find the right angle to repeat the blinding pleasure I felt before.

I moan convulsively when he hits the right spot, begging for more, crazed with lust. Dimly I hear him murmuring endearments to me, calling me his little barbarian, telling me how wonderful it feels to be inside me, urging me to surrender to his passion.

*****

Standing by the bed, fists clenched at his sides, Brian watched Curt wriggle helplessly on the bed. His hands were stretched over his head, seemingly held together by phantom bonds. Brian watched as Curt rolled onto his stomach, wantonly displaying himself to Brian's avid gaze.

When Curt stiffened and cried out, Brian felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He was so aroused he wanted nothing more than to pounce on and sink into his lover's body. But he couldn't use Curt that way, so he stood by the bed, trembling with frustrated desire.

Curt moved with more energy now, rubbing himself into the sheets, seeking release but unable to find it.

*****

I am floating in an ocean of amazing sensation. The waves are growing, carrying me with them, building before they crash on the shore. As if from underwater, I hear him make a demand. "Tell me, little barbarian, tell me who I am to you."

Without thought I respond, my voice harsh and raspy, saying, "Master. You're my master." As I say the words, I realize in the depths of my heart that they are true.

*****

Seeing Curt's distress, Brian finally changed his mind, succumbing to the intense eroticism Curt exuded. Grabbing the Vaseline from the bedside table, Brian slicked his cock and climbed onto the bed. Efficiently opening Curt with his fingers, Brian pressed his cock against Curt's anus and pushed gently inside. Curt unfolded for him, allowing him to thrust inside fully.

They both groaned their pleasure as Brian began an insistent rhythm.

*****

The waves crest, crashing onto the shore in roiling foam. I am tossed about in the water, carried under. I surface, gasping for breath. My master's weight is heavy on my back, but my heart is light. For the first time in my life I belong to someone. In captivity I have discovered freedom.

*****

Sliding his hand up and down Curt's cock in time with his thrusts, Brian felt the moment Curt surrendered to the stimulation. Following Curt into orgasm, Brian shook with pleasure.

As the aftershocks died down, Brian pulled himself off Curt, satisfied yet horrified by what he had done. Having cleaned himself, Brian began to work on Curt. As Brian finished, he was amazed to see that Curt looked much more comfortable. Touching his hand to Curt's forehead, Brian was thrilled to feel cooling skin. The fever had broken.

When Curt's eyes fluttered open, Brian smiled down at him. "Everything's okay, love. You were sick, but you're getting better now. You need to sleep." Overwhelmed with relief, Brian feared he was babbling.

Curt managed to open his eyes fully and meet Brian's gaze.Smiling slightly, Curt growled, "I had the most amazing dream. And you were in it."

Brian ran his thumb over Curt's lips. "I'll bet I was. Sleep now."

Curt kissed Brian's thumb and closed his eyes. "Yes, master."


End file.
